In Which Sam Flips Out During Mystery Spot
by Niqi
Summary: Sam flies into a rage somewhere between the montage of Dean dying repeatedly and Sam after a hundred Tuesdays looking completely defeated. There be crack and apparently the inability to decide whether to laugh or cry ahead.


_"Heeeat of the mome-"_

Sam ripped the radio alarm clock out of the wall.

Dean only got through "Whoa, Sammy! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle -" before he was cut off by Sam throwing it at the ground with as much force as he could muster, shattering it. That was good, because after Dean finished with "you" he followed it up with this annoying-as-fuck _heh-heh-heh_ laugh and Sam was so goddamn sick of hearing it. He stomped on the radio for good measure.

"Sammy?" Dean said uncertainly.

Sam couldn't find the energy to tell him to shut up. He faceplanted back onto his bed.

"Somebody didn't get her beauty sleep," Dean said.

"Mbffydyends," Sam said into the pillow.

"Didn't really catch that," Dean said.

Sam turned his head to the side. "Maybe if I die it ends."

"What ends?"

"I'm caught in a time loop and no I don't give a shit that you think I'm nuts. Just shut up and leave me alone and maybe _don't fucking die today_, okay?" Sam pulled the pillow over his head. He pulled it down hard after a second and screamed into the mattress, then sat up and threw the pillow across the room. "I can't take having this _fucking_ song stuck in my head anymore. I can't even hear my own thoughts over the constant _Heeeat of the moment, heeeat of the moment_, over and over and _over and over - !_" He smashed his face into his hands.

"Okay, slow down there Sammy," Dean said, more than a little freaked out by his brother's behavior. "You think you're caught in some kind of what again?"

"_TIME LOOP! STOP SAYING THAT!_" Sam shouted. Dean took a step back. Sam sat still for a few moments, silently fuming, and then jumped up, taking Dean by the arm. "Come on."

"What're you doing, Sam?"

"We're going to go get some duct tape and I'm not letting you out of my sight." Sam towed Dean out to the parking lot, keeping up a quiet chant of _don't die don't die don't die_ all the way. He found some duct tape stashed in the glove compartment and then towed Dean right back into the hotel room.

"Sammy, you're kinda freaking me out," Dean said, smiling nervously.

"Don't care," Sam said, sitting Dean down in a chair. He started duct-taping Dean to it.

"Whoa, hey, come on, Sam, let's not -" Dean said, fighting Sam's efforts.

"It's for your own good, Dean," Sam said, calming down somewhat now that he was on a track he'd never been on before. Dean didn't stop struggling, so Sam shoved him back into the chair and looked him dead in the eye. "Just trust me, okay?"

"No offense, Sammy, but it seems like you've got more than a few screws loose at the moment, so I don't -"

Sam unleashed the puppy eyes.

"Dammit, Sam, why do you have to..." Dean sighed and leaned back, sitting still. Sam quickly finished his taping job, then started moving all the furniture as far away from Dean as possible. When he was finished, the hotel room was one big open space with Dean duct-taped to a chair in the center. Sam drew up the other chair across from him and sat. "So...what now?" Dean asked.

"We wait."

"Until?"

"Until it's Wednesday."

Dean laughed. Sam didn't, and an expression of mild horror slowly came over Dean's face. "You're not joking."

Sam shook his head.

"Dude. What if I have to take a piss?"

"I will get you a fucking cup."

"What if I'm hungry?"

"Oh no. You're not eating anything today."

Dean scowled. "Okay, Sam, I am past freaked at the moment. Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

"I'm caught in a time loop and every day it's Tuesday and you die and then I wake up and then it's Tuesday again any questions? No? Good."

...

Night had fallen and Sam had even went and gotten Dean a goddamn cup. They were so close. _So close_. And then a thunderstorm had rolled in, one that hadn't occurred any of the other times they'd reached Tuesday night.

"Alright, Sammy, get off me," Dean said.

"Nope."

Sam was awkwardly holding still-duct-taped-to-the-chair Dean, shielding his brother with his body. If that fucking thunderstorm wanted Dean, it would have to go through Sam.

"Seriously, Sammy. I am sweating balls and I have never been more uncomfortable in my life."

"Too bad."

"It's just a fucking storm, dude."

"It's _NOT_ just a fucking storm, because there's never _been_ a fucking storm in all the Tuesdays I've been through. This is the thing that kills you, Dean, I fucking know it."

"Okay, how about you cut me loose and we make a run for it in the Impala?"

"Nope. You'd be dead in a second."

"I'm touched by your concern, Sammy, but I'm a hunter, not a damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

"Not on Tuesdays, you can't."

"You know, it is awkward as hell having this conversation with you _draped over me_."

"Too bad."

Lightning flashed blindingly bright outside the windows, followed almost immediately by an earsplitting crack of thunder. Sam squeezed his brother tighter. "Not today," he said through clenched teeth.

"Alright, you know what? Enough," Dean said. "Sammy, look at me." Sam didn't budge. "Sam!"

"What?"

"Look at me!"

Sam pulled his head back just far enough to look Dean in the eye. "_What?_"

Dean headbutted Sam, putting all the force he could behind it and sending Sam stumbling back in pain. "_Thank you_. Now, can we have a conversation without you -"

The hotel room was made of pure light. When Sam could see again, he found that there was a freshly burnt hole in the roof, through which rain was falling down on the charred remains of his brother.

"NO! FUCKING GOD DAMN IT SH-"

_"Heeeat of the moment!"_

That was when Sam officially gave up.


End file.
